


A Place to Hide

by destielpasta



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:31:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielpasta/pseuds/destielpasta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean thinks about kissing Cas a whole lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place to Hide

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place sometime after the events of 9x03, when Cas has returned to the bunker.

Dean thinks of kissing Castiel often.

His dreams about the angel become habit after a while, a way to escape. A place to hide and collect himself before straightening his spine and facing the world again.

At first they had been wild and carnal, driven by mutual anger and lust; a simple by-product brought to you by the end-of-days. Bodies slammed against walls and clothing was shoved away, leaving nothing but their aching frustration, the betrayal of father’s fresh on their minds.  Cas’s hands would be rough, carving bruises into his hips and biting at his neck and shoulder, relentlessly _taking_ for keeps because what did they have to lose?

Apocalypses came and went, his brother lost and found a soul, and Cas was never there enough. He wasn’t there to perch on his shoulder and heaven couldn’t wait. The dreams took on a new edge. A pleading, harsh edge full of deep kisses and tears left unexplained. Cas’s hands were gentler now, yielding to Dean. This time it was the hunter who pressed the angel against the wall, pinning his wrists to the paneling, daring Castiel to fight back, do _something_. But he was foolish for trying to trap a ray of light; Cas always slipped through his fingers.

He endured a year full dreams that left him drenched in sweat and fear; twitching muscles and crooked black smiles burned into his eyes long after waking. Their kisses were brief, cut off too quickly with the expulsion of black, brackish goo that spilled from Castiel’s bloody mouth into Dean’s lungs. Each cough burned more than the last. And yet he held fast as Cas slipped away, his hands slipping through the folds of the trench coat until it hung damp and empty in his hands.

Finding Cas was supposed to make the dreams stop. They were _family_ for Christ’s sake, he said it himself over and over again until his own mind retaliated with dreams of coffee in the morning and hands folding soft flannel shirts side by side. Kissing became less frequent, more often there were smiles and hands-held and faces illuminated with the gentle glow of the TV screen. Their kisses held little expectation or thoughts of time.  

But when it does happen, strangely enough, Dean isn’t thinking about kissing Castiel. He’s pondering his dinner options with only string cheese and a single peach waiting in the fridge when his friend sneaks behind him, forever forgetting about personal space and boundaries.

The kiss doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Dean can still hear the TV humming from the other room where Kevin and his brother are waiting. Can still feel the draft that leaves goose-bumps on his arms. Can still hear Cas’s voice even though he all but whispers.

“I think I would like to kiss you.”

Dean knows it’s not really a question, but he nods anyway, conscious of the shine in Castiel’s eyes and the creak of the floorboards as the former angel crowds into his space. The kiss starts with a lean, is waylaid by bumping noses, and begins with an exhale.

It feels like waking up. 


End file.
